


falling right back

by IncognitoDuck11



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friends With Benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28591260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoDuck11/pseuds/IncognitoDuck11
Summary: “You don't have to go,” she said plainly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Yet she knew it was anything but.Even from her spot on the bed, even through the dizzy haze her mind was still swirling in, Aria could see Spencer stiffen, could read the tension in the planes of her shoulder blades and the ridge of her spine. Spencer didn't speak for a moment, focusing on buttoning her jeans, but then Aria heard the words leave her mouth, so cold and distant that she almost didn't recognize them.“Yes, I do.”
Relationships: Spencer Hastings/Aria Montgomery
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	falling right back

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic? You bet. I wrote this years ago. It just needed some fine tuning.
> 
> Title from "Say It" by Flume ft. Tove Lo

-.-.-.-

“You don't have to go,” she said plainly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Yet she knew it was anything but. 

Even from her spot on the bed, even through the dizzy haze her mind was still swirling in, Aria could see Spencer stiffen, could read the tension in the planes of her shoulder blades and the ridge of her spine. Spencer didn't speak for a moment, focusing on buttoning her jeans, but then Aria heard the words leave her mouth, so cold and distant that she almost didn't recognize them. 

“Yes, I do.” 

Aria winced. The angry red scratches on Spencer's back, the ghost of her hands on Aria’s throat—those were just the outward expression of a kind of passionate, burning lust that was always meant to snuff out in the end, a kind of pain they both continued to dance around, never acknowledging, knowing that they weren't on the same page. Not really. Not anymore.

Aria knew it wasn't fair to Spencer. She could hold Spencer's hand and moan her name and play house all she wanted, but Aria loved Ezra, would always go back to him. And when he inevitably becomes unsure and breaks them up again, she'll lean heavily on Spencer, on her touch and her lips, because  _ his _ just aren't available. She uses her and then throws her away, over and over, but it wasn't like they had anything real to begin with anyway. 

Still, things had taken a turn lately. Aria could sense it in every facet of Spencer, because she knew the girl almost as well as she knew herself, even more so now that they had crossed the line into more-than-friends. It was in the flatness of her tone and the hollowness of her eyes, in the roughness of her hands and the painful pressure of her lips as she marked Aria's chest, in the low growls she let free from the back of her throat when Aria bit into her shoulder. It was an insidious, angry poison that hadn't been there before. 

They'd been just as passionate during their first times together, but Spencer was never so aggressive, always gentle and considerate and loving. Cuddling with her afterwards, playfully teasing Aria about one thing or another until she couldn't stop blushing, her arms warm and steady and soothing. Never had anything so dark and hateful boiled up to the surface, but maybe it was just her best friend showing her the side she usually kept under wraps, a side that could only be glimpsed when she wanted a blue ribbon or a gold star. Maybe it was just Spencer taking what she wanted, allowing that greedy ambition of hers to take over. And maybe it wasn't harmless, but Aria had soon found herself being swept up in it, liking it more than she probably should have, matching Spencer's aggressive movements with her own. Like sticking her hand in an agitated lion’s mouth and goading it to bite her. All for the thrill of it.

Their dance, once elegant and fluid and rose-tinted, pillows soft as clouds and sheets vast as sky, had turned quickly into something carnal and violent, though she wasn't sure who had drawn first blood. All she knew was that Spencer's flushed skin was no longer a masterpiece to be simply admired—she wanted to consume it, own it, ruin it. Sharp, coffee-colored eyes were now that of an enemy, a rival that matched her so evenly neither of them could ever win. It always turned into a battle of moves and countermoves, until both of them collapsed—equal parts breathless and satisfied and aggravated—and Spencer immediately disconnected, went to drag herself into her clothes, begrudgingly accepting their stalemate. Aria recognized that same destructive hunger in her, born of some frustration that was so inherently Spencer Hastings, and instinctively she knew that her stubborn best friend was after something she just couldn't have.

A part of Aria was flattered, puffing up with pride at the knowledge that she was the one thing  _ Spencer  _ couldn’t obtain. And maybe that was why Aria fought her tooth and nail every step of the way, and why Spencer didn't just call it quits. Aria was a challenge, a puzzle, a problem, and Spencer never could put those down, could she? And Spencer was a challenge, too, the kind of domineering person that, if bested, could stroke Aria’s ego like nothing else. Separately, they self-destructed all the time, chasing things they probably shouldn't, so maybe it wasn't much of a stretch for them to come together like this and tear each other apart. 

They learned a long time ago that they were soulmates, one way or another. And it was true, wasn't it? But she didn't think either of them expected things to end up like this.

“Spence…” Aria trailed off like always, never knowing how to continue. 

“It's just sex, Aria,” said Spencer, voice so monotonous, matter-of-fact, yet laced with barbed wire. “You don't have to accommodate me after that.” 

Aria’s brow furrowed at the ache in her chest. The sex was explosive, and mind-blowing, and pumped her full of adrenaline and endorphins, but it always took its toll, left her emotionally battered. Her body would heal, but her heart was another story entirely. Spencer's volatility was so physically satisfying, yet it felt corrosive and toxic and all around wrong otherwise. It exposed a gaping hole in her heart, made her aware that something was missing— _ Spencer  _ was missing.

Which was ridiculous because Spencer was standing right in front of her, slipping into the undershirt Aria had previously torn off her. But it still felt like there was a stranger in her bedroom, and Spencer was somewhere far away from here. Dead. Because Aria had punctured her jugular and left her to the vultures.

Suddenly, guilt flooded her, and her voice became hardly a whisper. She wondered if the other girl could even hear it. “I miss you.” 

“Miss me?” Spencer turned her head just a little, the rest of her pausing for a moment, her shoulders lifting ever so slightly. After a long moment, she turned around completely, and Aria nearly flinched at the fury in her eyes. Her chest heaved and a mirthless laugh ground out of her throat, and Aria felt it like a knife in her gut. “You  _ miss _ me? And here I thought screwing our english teacher was enough for you.” 

Ouch. Recoiling from the slight, Aria found herself sitting up, hugging the bed sheet to her chest. It was easy, how the nastiest of her feelings started to boil, morphing into an oily rage that she was all-too familiar with. But it was infinitely better than shame, and she flung that back at Spencer like acid. Retaliation was only habit by now.

“It definitely is,” spat Aria. “You know, you're just my pity project, since Toby didn't want you. And from this angle, it's not hard to see why.”

A scowl twisted Spencer's lips, real, raw hurt flashing in her eyes, and she took a step backward before going on the offensive again. “Well, it's not my fault you let anyone with a heartbeat into your bed!” she yelled, scooping up Aria’s clothes and throwing them at her, one by one, probably wishing they were rocks. Aria swatted away her leggings and socks, but grabbed her shirt from midair and slipped it on, suddenly feeling entirely too exposed. 

It took her a second to realize that it wasn't her shirt at all but Spencer’s, and the sight seemed to piss Spencer off even more. She grabbed a book off Aria’s desk and hurled it at her, pages fluttering as it hurtled toward her head. Aria dodged it, flinching as it thudded against the wall, and swung back around to where Spencer looked stunned, surprised at herself. 

Then her best friend blinked, and her apparent remorse turned back into malice. “Oops,” she scoffed, in such a smartass tone that Aria saw red.

Before she knew what she was doing, Aria got out of bed and charged forward, Spencer's long shirt brushing reassuringly at her thighs even as she let her hand crack against its owner’s face. Before Spencer could recover, Aria was shoving her hard, her voice rising into a scream. “If I'm such a slut, what are you still doing here? Get the  _ fuck _ out of my house, Spencer!” 

Spencer's jaw visibly tightened, like now she was choosing to bite her tongue, but the damage was already done. The bright red handmark on her cheek was quickly fading, but maybe some sense had been slapped into her because she didn't react when Aria pushed her again. Channeling every ounce of her rage into the attack, Aria shoved and shoved and  _ shoved  _ until Spencer's back collided with the door and her head knocked loudly against it. And Aria's hands rose again—maybe to claw the girl’s eyes out or maybe to pull her in for a kiss, she didn't know—but Spencer grabbed her wrists. 

It was like time froze, ice spreading across her limbs and stopping her heart, and then it shattered. Tears were streaming down Spencer's face, her eyes pained and present and  _ alive _ , and it was like seeing a ghost. Like she was right to meet Spencer's emptiness with violence because it finally— _ finally _ —brought her back. Like she'd been pounding her fists against Spencer's chest until her heart started beating again, screaming abuse at her until she woke up. 

But she was responsible for hurting Spencer in the first place. It had been Aria’s idea to kiss her, to let Spencer make her forget about Ezra for one night, and it was Aria’s fault for not realizing that, in the long run, she really was passing off her own heartbreak to her best friend. She'd started this for all the wrong reasons, and of course it was never, ever going to end well. 

Spencer pulled her suddenly into a tight embrace, securely wrapping her arms around her, and Aria’s knees gave out. She leaned into her best friend like she had so many times before, but it felt selfish now. She felt dirty, allowing herself to hide in the curve of Spencer's neck, and her eyes blurred with tears when Spencer's nose nuzzled against her hair, inhaling deeply like she was trying to catch a whiff of home in a long since abandoned house. She’d lost Toby and what had Aria done besides torch years of steady friendship when Spencer needed it most? Set fire to a good thing because she was being stupid and selfish and needy. 

“I'm sorry,” murmured Spencer weakly, leaning back against the door. “Aria, I'm so sorry.” 

And here Spencer was apologizing like she had done something wrong. Aria muffled a sob in Spencer's neck. “Stop,” she whimpered pitifully, guilt crushing her even as she struggled to come right out and apologize. 

Spencer chuckled softly, apparently perplexed, and Aria felt her pull back a little. Her hand came up to cradle Aria’s head, thread soothing fingers through her hair. “Aria, look at me.” 

Entirely convinced that it was a trap and Spencer just wanted a chance to yell at her, Aria clung tighter to the front of Spencer's tank-top and shook her head. 

“You're shaking,” Spencer pointed out, concern creeping into her voice. “Hey, come on. Please?” 

Sheepishly, Aria peeked up, and Spencer looked down at her with sad, weary eyes. It nearly broke her heart all over again, but Spencer didn't look angry, and Aria felt immediately disgusted with herself. There was no version of this where she deserved Spencer’s kindness. 

“Don't be sorry,” she finally blurted, worming her way out of Spencer's arms. She turned away and paced on shaky legs to her bed, forcing herself to lean against it and immediately missing Spencer’s warmth. “This is all my fault, Spence.” 

The taller girl didn't say anything for a long moment, and Aria thought that maybe she had left before Spencer spoke again, her tone unexpectedly dry. “You don't get to take all the credit—it takes two to tango.”

Aria let out a watery laugh, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets and hanging her head. She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. “You're not wrong, I guess… but I should never have kissed you in the first place.” 

She heard Spencer’s light footfalls behind her, and then arms wrapped around her waist. Spencer rested her chin on her shoulder and Aria resisted the urge to lean into her. Not again. “You were lonely. And I kissed back because I was lonely, too,” Spencer said simply, like she was stating just another of the numerous facts stored in her brain. But then she adopted a teasing lilt, her voice going husky in a way that never failed to make Aria ache. “And I definitely don't regret anything we did after that.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer hummed, and her voice became impossibly soft. “What I regret, Aria, is falling in love with you.” 

There it was. Her words hung in the air for several long seconds, and they weren't a surprise but not entirely painless either. They'd said ‘I love you’ a thousand times. It was always easy, platonic, comforting. Now, hearing Spencer turn it from a simple statement to something actionable, it felt heavy. Aria loved Spencer, endlessly and with no hesitation, but Ezra would come to his senses like he always did and Aria was  _ in love _ with him. She couldn't commit herself to Spencer, not the way Spencer wanted her to, and that was exactly what they'd been fighting about, wasn't it? 

“Spence…” She still didn't know what to say, how to explain, but Spencer merely shook her head, relieving her of the obligation. 

“I know,” whispered her friend, her voice hoarse and breaking. “You're not mine.” 

The words carried that painful hollowness with them, and Aria was suddenly scared that Spencer was about to check out on her again. She didn't think twice as she twisted around and grabbed her best friend’s face, noting the distance in her gaze. Spencer stared blankly at her, still holding her around the waist, and Aria was torn between kissing her hard or letting her go. 

The decision was made for her as Spencer leaned forward, breath warm and skin hot as she firmly connected their mouths. She let Aria scoot back until she was sitting further on the bed, then trailed a hand along her bare thigh, possessively wrapping her other arm across her back. Then she created a millimeter of space between their mouths and rested their foreheads together. “It's how things are,” she breathed. “If you play with fire, you get burned.”

They were so close that their noses were touching and their eyelashes could almost tangle, and Aria could see flecks of gold in the dark chocolate of Spencer's irises. She wanted to drown in them. Her hands slid away from Spencer's jaw and down her neck, slipped around to trace her spine back up into her hair. It was still damp from earlier and Aria knotted her fingers in it. She pulled her in for another kiss, this time going on the offensive with her tongue, though Spencer's fought back with equal force. 

A tiny, frustrated noise escaped the back of Spencer's throat then, and she moved to push Aria further onto the bed. Aria halted her with a palm splayed against her chest, pushed her back just enough to where she could maneuver her thigh between Spencer's legs. But instead of simply applying pressure, she bent her knee and lifted her leg between them, pressing her shin against the middle of Spencer's stomach. A tease, a barrier. “You really want to?” she murmured. “Even after everything?” 

Meeting resistance, Spencer caught her balance as Aria hung around her neck, weighing her down and then torturously propping her up, not allowing her to continue. Her hands sunk into the mattress on either side of Aria’s hips and she glanced downward, slowly dragged her gaze back up, obviously reminded that Aria wasn't wearing anything besides a flimsy shirt. Spencer’s own shirt at that. 

Spencer swallowed thickly, her jaw tightening ever-so-slightly. “Babe,” she finally rasped, heavy-lidded, and Aria nearly combusted at the sound. “I really don't think I can help myself at this point.” 

It struck Aria as ironic, and she smirked as she lowered her leg and released her grip on the back of Spencer's neck. She hooked her fingers in Spencer's waistband and tugged until they fell against the bed. A wet trail of kisses was planted along her neck, and Spencer whined needily into her ear. “Make me forget. Just for a little while.” 

Obligingly, Aria yanked Spencer's jeans down her hips as far as she could, then rolled them both so she was on top. Spencer kicked her pants the rest of the way off, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, and surrendered. 

Of course, hadn't Aria said something similar all those weeks ago, when they'd first started this?  _ Make me forget _ . She'd wanted her mind clear of Ezra, a distraction from the feeling like her heart was filling up with broken glass. And now, she supposed, it was her turn to reciprocate.   
  


-.-.-.-


End file.
